In the silence of the stars, where echoes dare not tread,
linger the chords of a dreamt symphony,
words caught beyond syllables, in the web of night.

Do you hear it? The whispering melody of celestial winds,
skimming across the surface of forgotten planets,
in nebulous forms, like ghosts of past musicians?

Here lies the unstrummed lyre,
its strings singing to themselves, unheard by mortal ears.
Touch them softly, if you dare, and listen to their hopeful sighs.

Each note a star fell from, wrapped in silence,
encased in cosmic amber, waiting to be

...listened to, remembered,
in the folds of a tattered night.
Whisper back, little traveler, and become the symphony.